


Questions and Answers

by TrilesForMiles



Category: Degrassi the Next Generation
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Dancing, Dedication, Fluff, Future Fic, Implied sexy times, Kissing, LGBTQ Character, Living Together, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Prom, Surprise Ending, Surprises, triles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-14 23:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3428762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrilesForMiles/pseuds/TrilesForMiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tristan thinks Miles ruined the prom night of his dreams, he needs answers. Set in their senior year. Two-Shot. Triles. Happy birthday Preya! ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Answer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmethystBeloved](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystBeloved/gifts).



> A/N: This fic is dedicated to the fabulous Preya aka Amethyst Beloved! It is a bit late considering her birthday was last week, but I really don't think the timing could have been any better ;)
> 
> This is a two-shot fic, so expect a second chapter soon! I was going to post them both at once since part two was written well before part one, but she said she would like them spaced out a bit.
> 
> Shout out to Lauryn aka EvilValenStrife for mapping out the basics of this plot and basically coming up with the ending of this chapter for me. Yay teamwork!
> 
> Pieces from the following fics of Preyas are referenced in this fic, so make sure you guys go check them out and leave her some reviews! (She loves them!)
> 
> On Here - So What Now, Just Dance, Sexual Tension, Who's That Girl, Broken,
> 
> On Tumblr - Family/Doing Something Together, Spooning/Days, Gaming/Hours, Sound/On A Date, Eating IceCream/Taste, Birthday
> 
> ...I really think that's it but if I forgot to give credit to any I will surely add the titles in in the author's notes on the next chapter!

If he hadn't known better, he would have assumed the city was abandoned. The way the wind whistled as it rustled the leaves in the trees was almost eerie when surrounded by the darkness. As he trekked through the empty playground and across the sandbox he used to play in as a kid he could just barely make out the shapes of the familiar equipment around him. By memory he knew what was there but in his current line of vision every swing set and slide was no more than a smudge against a dark canvas. All around him things creaked and moaned to a collective soundtrack but none of them were urged by humans.

Nobody was ever around at this time of day. You know, that point when it's too early to be considered night but too dim for the typical sunlit illusion of morning. Of course some sleepless soul was still awake somewhere in Toronto. More likely than not, they were still in their nice cozy beds just struggling for peace beneath their sheets. Even the various neighborhood critters were tucked away in their homes by then for a pleasant snooze.

This was precisely what made the park the perfect place for Tristan to go and think.

He knew exactly where he was headed. This was probably the sole reason that neither the fog in the air nor the fogginess in his eyes had yet to stop him from moving. Exhaustion flowed through his veins but with his thoughts traveling at the speed of light it was impossible for him to sit still. He was conflicted. He needed answers - and he had always seemed to find the best answers at basketball courts.

It was where he discovered he indeed did posses some level of athleticism. Although he would never be able to compete with his sport star brother, it was nice to know the skills were there. It was where the question of whether it was ever okay to act out West Drive plots in real life for the sake of a cute boy was replied to with a definite no. It's never okay. Most importantly, it was where he learned just about anything he ever wanted to know about the same cute boy - Miles Hollingsworth III.

Tristan created the game in their sophomore year of high school. It came to him after the immense storm that lead to their second kiss, their first relationship together, and the even wilder storm that followed over the next two and a half years. The rules were simple to remember mainly because they were the same as any basic one-on-one. The only catch was whoever makes a basket gets to ask a question. It started as a way to clear their minds. It was the first instance they discussed the emotions remaining from Miles' concluded relationship with Maya and Tristan's manipulative situation with Yates. Though it certainly was not the last. Other games and life situations lead to additional serious inquiries about parental abuse, body image, drug use, trust issues, sexuality, failed friendships, and the straightforward yet never simple "what's wrong?".

But it also lead to uncovering the more fun, light-hearted details of each other. Facts that were essential to know even if they weren't crucial to their relationship. Little things like each other's favorite colors, movies, foods, and stories. What songs they couldn't live without and what celebrities they couldn't be paid enough to live with. Memories they cherished and ones they'd like to forget based on the red-hot color of embarrassment they brought to their cheeks. Secrets were spilled that made them laugh so hard they cried. Others made them cry so hard they had to search long and hard for a good laugh to lift their spirits. Although they'd probably deny it if asked by their friends there were even a handful of instances when the game got more than a little dirty - and not in regards of foul play. The curiosity of each other's turn ons and sweet spots often lead to showing by example that actions speak louder than words.

It wasn't always at the same court but the symbolism was just the same. That night it was strong enough for him to believe that even playing solo could suffice. The only problem with that was he had forgotten a ball. He didn't realize it until his feet met the edge of the concrete directly across from the towering net. He remembered a past when it seemed so intimidating. Now, even as the court was illuminated only by a single street light that flickered from old age and the dim glow of the pale white crescent in the sky it appeared so much less. Unable to prove it to himself he felt defeated and with a sigh pivoted on his heels to head home.

But he stopped short as he thought up one slightly unusual idea. He was an actor - and a brilliant performer such as himself should never need to rely on the existence of a prop to get their point across. With that he whipped back around, bouncing an invisible ball before him as he stepped further on to the court. Jogging forward he held it as his chest until he reached half-way, shooting in motion and stealing it back the moment it would have returned from its journey through the hoop. At first he was shy but soon he was on fire, metaphorically and literally as he ran from this corner to that dripping in sweat. He spun around on the three point line with so much force it knocked the hood of his jacket right off his head revealing hair as jet black as the after midnight sky. Sleep was a forgotten occurrence as he widened his stance and crouched down to dribble the air between his legs with enough determination as if there were a full team surrounding him. His imagination was so strong he could hear the sound of leather hitting the concrete ringing loudly in his ears. He caught the invisible ball behind him, faked right, broke left, aligned his body with the target, and...

"You know it might be a little easier to play with this."

The deep voice broke his concentration, visibly startling him even though he knew who it belonged to immediately. With no surprise when he turned around to face the noise he saw his boyfriend standing behind him with a dull orange ball in one outstretched hand. Tristan was hit with an intoxicating mixture of stun and shame that was hard to grasp when he was so winded. He doubled over with his hands on his knees, trying to avoid Miles' existence until he could gather up enough air in his lungs to speak. When Miles asked if he was okay he nodded his head vigorously, realizing that plan wasn't actually as practical as he would have liked it to be.

"How did you find me here?" Tristan panted, letting himself make eye contact with Miles just long enough for him to speak before it diverted.

The fragility in his voice along with the low slump of his thin shoulders and downward cast of his blue-gray eyes suggested he was upset. But the small puff of breath so different than the rest that clung to his last words carried a sense of appreciation and disbelief that showed maybe he was not exactly against being found.

"Tris, I knew where you'd run off to back before grade ten when I barely even knew you. We've been together over two years now..."

Miles' voice trailed off as he waited for some sort of reaction from the other boy. Although the facts Miles presented didn't directly answer his question, it was implied. Miles felt relief wash over him when corners of Tristan's mouth tugged upward in the most timid of ways. The brunette cautiously took a few steps closer and in response Tristan stood. His chest heaved magnificently against the tight zipper on his hoodie, reminding Miles of the slightly toned muscles he knew lied underneath. Tristan did nothing but gape as he tried to collect himself, with one hand expectantly on his hip and the other fanning his flushed face.

"I went to your house first. But mum said you went out a while ago..."

Miles continued, and it didn't go unnoticed that Miles referred to Tristan's mother as simply 'mum' without a 'your' placed first. He supposed that after 29 months together that was just something that happened. Although it happened without any consciousness Tristan had also caught himself doing the same on occasion. It was safe to say he didn't typically mind it. But in that instance it burned like a crackling flame underneath his skin.

"...And if I know anything about Tristan Milligan it's that you'll only go on walks when the sun's not out if you're with me or if you're upset..."

This was true. Tristan swallowed hard, moving his arms to cross lowly on his chest as he settled into his hip and waited for Miles to finish.

"...And the only way I wouldn't know about it before you left your house is if you're upset with me..."

Also true. Although they had gotten much better at communicating since they first started dating Tristan was notorious for needing time to think to himself. He liked to know exactly how he felt about situations before he brought them up to Miles. Talking in the heat of the moment and beating around bushes had only gotten them in trouble in the past. For him, it was all about knowing what he needed to say and how he wanted to say it. They weren't kids anymore. They were mature adults. The acceptance of childish insults and alternating screaming matches had long come to an end.

"...So, I guess instinct just took over because it lead me here, and here you are."

"You went to my house?" Tristan asked for clarification, wondering what reason Miles possibly could have had for appearing at his doorstep when the sun hadn't even risen.

"Hey. You know the drill." Miles threw the ball up in the air and caught it before chucking it lightly at his counterpart. "You already got one freebie."

The ball landed between Tristan's hands like second nature. He stared at it for a moment, spinning it between his thin fingers as if admiring the surface. Something told him that no matter how he went about the next shot Miles wouldn't try to stop him. With a daring look back at the brunette he darted forward, traveling with the ball bouncing steadily before him. Miles was aware of Tristan's every move but never got close enough to be a real threat. Without stopping Tristan gathered the ball at his chest and shot. It bounced off the backboard, making the old equipment rattle but ultimately met the goal of dropping through the net.

"Make that two freebies." Tristan teased, pointing out his lover's obvious lack of effort. "I know you can do better than that."

"Didn't you have a question to ask?"

It wasn't hard for Miles to brush off the other boy's minor insult - mainly because he knew Tristan wasn't wrong. Of course he had let him off easy on the first go. But they weren't there to be discussing Miles' sportsmanship. Tristan waited until he had retrieved the ball and was neighboring Miles once more before acting on his victory. There was a new softness to his tone, matching chillingly with the distance in his gaze.

"How long have we been together?"

Miles was clearly taken off guard. He hadn't been expecting a quiz on their relationship. Miles drew out the reply, looking up to the sky with a grimace as if expecting the gods feed him the information. But of course it was all for show. He knew the answer just as well as Tristan did.

"Coming up on two and a half years. Twenty nine months. Uh...let's see. That's like...126 weeks? 880 something days? Don't ask me to count the minutes, Tris. I'm not that good at mathematics."

"Okay, okay."

Miles had obviously made his point. Tristan wasn't sure why he was so thrilled with the rebuttal but it showed in the way he beamed brightly.

"Now, quit stalling Hollingsworth and bring on some real competition."

"Alright, fine."

Miles straightened his stance and stared the other boy down with enough valor to make Tristan gulp. With Tristan's focus locked directly on his expressionless face it gave Miles the perfect opportunity to smack the ball out of his grip. Tristan scoffed in a somewhat fake offense but Miles was already circling around him and making his way down the court. Tristan whipped around and chased behind him, jumping up just as Miles did in an attempt to block the shot with his own hand. But his aim was too far off, allowing Miles to sink the ball directly through the target with ease.

"How long were you out here before I found you?"

There it was again. Tristan could call out his boyfriend's protective mindset from kilometers away. He steadied his hands on his hips as he tried to grasp an idea of how to answer. It wasn't until then that he realized he hadn't had a clue on the amount of time had passed.

"Um. Well it took me like fifteen minutes to walk 'cause I took the long way around through the old playground." Tristan pondered out loud. "Then maybe another twenty or so since I reached the court and you showed up?"

Even though the thought of his beloved outside alone so late made his stomach churn violently, Miles fought to keep his anguish internal. Instead he only nodded once in acceptance and checked the ball to Tristan. Tristan pulled back as if he planned to send it to Miles but at the last minute pivoted and aimed for the net above their heads. It bounced off the rim but rolled the opposite way allowing both boys equal access to it. They ran neck and neck, jutting in front of each other every so often in an attempt to get ahead. Tristan managed to redeem himself by snatching the ball and sending it over his head to make a flawless basket. He met Miles with a self-assured smirk as he ran to go catch it post-landing, just barely brushing up against him as he moved past.

"Who do I consider to be the second greatest diva of our time?"

"Whitney Houston." Miles actually chuckled as he called out his answer to the seemingly odd inquiry. "Just behind Lady Gaga."

"Impressive." Tristan noted despite the fact that he looked incredibly bored as he returned and tossed the basketball back to Miles.

With each play they executed the boys found themselves getting increasingly aggressive in the typical athletic fashion. The clever tricks and playful shoves were really what kept the game so carefree and energetic. It became increasingly obvious that there was an issue at hand Tristan was trying to avoid - or rather, work his way up to carefully. Tristan never did a single thing without a method to his madness. Each point he scored came with another question about himself that he wanted to see if Miles could answer. Which he did, and all of them correctly. But obviously Miles' knowledge of him being a Libra, being a natural red head, or playing the french horn in 9th grade didn't show much relevance to anything. With each turn Miles only found himself deeper into the hole of confusion and frustration that Tristan was throwing him in. It took until the score was 10-11 with Miles in the lead for him to determine that they had let this drag on long enough.

Tristan had the ball, with Miles right at his tail as he sprinted towards the net. With a tremendous effort he ceased dribbling as he got into position to take the aim that would hopefully get them tied. But before he could even release the ball he was being pulled back against Miles in an unbreakable embrace. Tristan squirmed and struggled forcibly, chalk full of complaints about Miles being unfair. He could have screamed until his face turned red, but there was no way Miles was going to let him go just yet. He pinned Tristan's arms underneath his own, preventing him from being capable to throw the ball where it needed to be. At that point the best he would be able to do was drop it at their feet, but he didn't appear to be too concerned with letting go any time soon. The other boy remained as cool as a cucumber despite Tristan's struggles, simply shushing him as he pleaded for him to listen for a moment.

"Tris. Just let me say one think and we can get back to the game."

Miles brought his mouth as close to Tristan's ear as he could without actually touching it, allowing Tristan to feel the heat from his breath as he spoke. The black haired boy was stubborn as ever, leaving Miles no choice but to carry on anyways.

"Your middle name is James." Miles started, and for a brief moment he actually felt Tristan's vigorous movements calm. "Your favorite color is amethyst purple. You're six feet tall exactly. Your older brother Owen is in the NHL. Your parents split up at the end of grade ten. You came out in grade seven, but your first kiss was with your old best friend Tori. She moved away the summer we went to Paris. You're obsessed with West Drive, American Horror Story, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You aspire to work with Quentin Tarantino..."

Miles was like a broken record that couldn't be stopped. As calmly as possible he spewed out the most random pieces of Tristan information he could think of. Every so often he could feel Tristan growing less tense in his arms only to start wiggling about a moment later as if trying to remind himself that he's somewhat ticked at Miles. More than anything Miles wanted to just pull him against him further and relish in their mutual warmth. He wanted to nuzzle his head into him and press his lips against that one specific spot on Tristan's neck that he knows is especially sensitive. But he refrained, not wanting to cross any invisibly drawn boundaries in Tristan's clearly moody state.

"...You hate eating carbs, but veggie pizza is always an exception. Your favorite role you've played to date was in Romeo and Jules. Your biggest fears are needles, snakes, and being alone forever. But you don't ever mention that last one. You had a minor heart attack when you were 13 after going on a crazy crash diet - even though you were just as handsome then as you are today. When we have sex, you prefer positions where we're facing each other so you can watch how you make me fall apart. You're not fond of giving hand-jobs but you do it anyways because you know I prefer it to going down. And you claim that you hate it when I ruffle up your hair after you've just finished doing it in the mornings. But I know you really don't mind that much because you always yell at me with a smile every single time."

Miles released Tristan from his hold, letting his hands grip the boys frail wrists and bring his arms back to the proper aiming position. He trailed his fingers all the way back up Tristan's arms, resting his hands lightly on the boy's shoulders. Tristan had every bit of freedom to flinch away now, but he didn't budge. He just stood there, staring at the worn Chucks on his feet like they were a fascinating new discovery.

"I can probably think of a hundred more if you need me to. And if that's what you want I'll stand here and answer Tristan trivia all fucking night. But can you at least tell me what all this is about?"

There was a new touch of desperation in his voice that hadn't been there before. Tristan himself was noticeably hesitant. A broken sigh that left his throat did not go unheard in the silence that had taken over since Miles' asked his question.

"I was trying to make a point." Tristan eventually shrugged, lifting his fallen head in search for his some degree of confidence. "Point being that you could answer any meaningless question I threw out at you. So how does the guy I've been with for two and a half years, 29 months, or 800-and-whatever days remember all these stupid little details a-and know where I'll be at the ass crack of dawn but fails to remember about the one day I've been looking forward to for all four years of high school?"

Realizing he'd already asked his question, he chucked the ball towards the hoop. He only used one hand and his body was nowhere near aligned with the target, sending the sphere flying much too far to the left to land in some bushes. He was so scatterbrained and no longer concerned with the game that it was really more of a way to channel his irritation than an honest attempt. Tristan didn't flinch. He could care less about going to retrieve it. Miles pondered the idea for a moment, but remained perfectly still once Tristan began to speak again.

"Miles, you know how crucial prom night was to me. It's like, the most crucial day in any young couple's life besides their potential wedding."

He paused for a moment, wondering if he was getting a bit carried away. But ultimately he shook that thought off. He was upset and he had every damn right to be. Their relationship thus far had been filled with many unique experiences. They got off to a rocky start, ultimately ending their first try to dating much too soon on the worst of notes. Since reconciliation that point in their relationship had earned the name "The Plague" and there was an unspoken promise to keep it unspoken unless absolutely necessary. Two dreadful months slugged by before their bromance turned romance turned bitter enemies took a giant leap back under the romance label - and it had been smooth sailing ever since. Yeah they still argued like all couples do. But once Miles learned to talk about what's bothering him and Tristan learned to not be so obsessively confrontational those spats were more like little waves in the water than a full-on tsunami.

They survived the intimidation of swanky Hollingsworth parties and exchanging details of their separate family drama. They took care of each other when ill and even put their care-giving skills to the ultimate test while babysitting Tristan's niece. A number of holidays, anniversaries, and birthdays were spent together or desperately wishing they were - and yes, Miles had somehow been able to make up for nearly forgetting Tristan's sixteenth. The quest for creative date ideas that further separated them from the average couples lead them through serenades in the park, surprisingly competitive Just Dance battles, and Tristan's unsuccessful attempts to get Miles to enjoy ice cream. As their feelings flourished innocent make out sessions in the backseat of Miles' car became infused with sexual tension and eventually lead to them sleeping together for the first time and many more after that.

Now it was their senior year, and the beginning of the rest of their lives was fast approaching. Once everyone gathered their diplomas and threw their caps into the air Tristan and Miles would both be furthering their education at Toronto University - Tristan as a theater major and Miles for music production. Their original intention was to take off to New York City. But two overprotective mothers skeptical about their baby boys living on their own so far away kept them grounded in Canada for now. Luckily that meant both sets of parents were willing to do whatever it took to keep them close by - including collectively springing for the initial expenses of their new apartment just off campus. The space was decently sized and placed in the liveliest part of the college town. Tristan had been hitting up yard sales for months gathering whatever decorations and furniture he could that screamed sophistication without screaming at Miles' set budget. Most importantly, it was theirs.

But before they jumped headfirst into adulthood there was still one major milestone left to conquer - prom night. The night that Tristan had been dreaming about since he was just a hopeless romantic of a little boy continuously watching Pretty In Pink on his living-room television. When his brother went to prom Tristan was green with envy over the fabulous night that lied ahead of him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing when all Owen had to say about the night was that he spent it drunk with his buddies like any other school dance. The thought of someone throwing that night away just seemed so grotesque. But Tristan didn't think he would have that problem. He'd managed to find the epic romance he had always longed for. And while that epic romance blossomed with strength not once did it ever cross his mind that prom night could potentially be anything other than perfection.

"I know you're not so big of an idiot to where you're immune to all the prom commotion, Miles. You'd practically have to be blind to miss it. Guess I should have taken you to get your vision checked."

Tristan added the last bit sarcastically, but Miles knew well enough to know he wasn't entirely joking. By the first week of grade 12 classes Tristan had already found himself on more than a few occasions lost in his own fantasies of them in coordinated suits slow dancing amongst the crowd as the elected prom kings. As the months droned on the prom buzz was the only think keeping his senior-itis at bay. Every corner of the school walls was bombarded with posters and D-TV had mentioned it in every announcement since before tickets even went on sale. The most boring school subjects were suddenly made much more interesting with all the gossip of who was taking who. He watched as everyone got their various invitations - Zig and Maya, Winston and Frankie, Tiny and Grace, even Zoe had managed to snag her former West Drive co-star Oliver Dean as her official arm candy.

For weeks upon weeks Tristan waited on edge for his day to come. Considering Tristan left for the park just before midnight that meant a new day had officially started amongst their basketball game and prom night had arrived. Mere hours were left until the hundreds of grade 12 students and their dates would be piling into their respective vehicles and be whisked off to the time of their lives. All except Tristan - because even though the day had come and would soon be gone Miles had never asked him. Tristan couldn't ask Miles of course. He had already ticked asking his boyfriend to a dance off of the to-do list for their grade 11 Homecoming. They ended up ditching the soiree for a 'movie night turned make-out session' courtesy of the Good TV at the Hollingsworths of course. But regardless of details that ship had sailed and this one was clearly Miles' turn.

"You know, with the stresses of final exams and university jitters on everyone's mind I tried giving you the benefit of the doubt at first." Tristan shook his head as if to represent the shame he felt in himself. "I dropped as many hints as I could Miles and you ignored them all. I even went so in your face as to get your sister involved."

He thought back to the incident that confirmed his fears of a prom-less senior year that happened at Miles' house just a few nights prior. He had been whisked away from his snooze-fest of an English assignment after receiving a serious fashion emergency text from Frankie. He arrived at the Hollingsworth house in no time at all and promptly stormed up the stairs to her bedroom where he found her waiting with Miles. The oldest Hollingsworth boy had basically proven himself useless as he did nothing but lie back on Frankie's bed and fiddle with his phone while Tristan consoled his younger sister and attempted to sew up the sizable tear on her prom dress just below her budding breasts. The only contribution he made the entire duration of Tristan's stay was after Tristan asked Miles for back-up while trying to ensure Frankie that the mishap wasn't due to any serious weight gain but rather the 'fast-acting wonders of womanhood.' To which Miles nearly begged never to ask him about his sister's 'womanhood' again. Tristan tried to take his presence to his advantage while discussing with Frankie any prom related topic that came to mind. But despite how clearly they gushed over the outstanding choice in theme and speculation over what hot tracks would be played all night, Miles stayed mum.

That day, the following day, and every other day they had left. Not once had Miles so much as even uttered the four letter word. Tristan supposed he could go by himself but by the time he considered that possibility tickets were already sold out. More than anything, he felt let down.

"Well I hope you're happy Miles because congratulations. You don't have to go to prom. Clearly, you didn't want to." Tristan continued with a sharp bitterness on the tip of his tongue. " I guess I'm just disappointed that after all this time you couldn't just tell me that instead of ignoring it as if it was just some other unimportant school function we decided to skip out on. Because whether or not you wanted to go is one thing but I never made that decision. Now I can't even go solo because I waited so long for you to ask me that tickets sold out. So thanks for being the one responsible for me having to miss out on something I've looked forward to for so long. Really shows how much you love me."

"Whoa, Tris. I do love you..." Miles started, but his counterpart cut him off before his sentence could go on any further.

"I know, I know you do. But. Seriously, Miles! Open your eyes for like, two seconds please?!" Tristan was raising his voice now, his upset state catching noticeably in his throat. "A few weeks from now we're supposed to be moving in together. Just the two of us, with nobody else around. We'll be learning how to grow up together and sharing a whole bunch of new responsibilities we've never dealt with before. That's going to be a lot of work. How are we ever going to survive that stuff if we can't even figure out what our plans are now?!"

"Tristan look. I think..."

"No, Miles! I don't care what you think right now. You know what I think? I thought with such big things ahead of us that we would be on board together for including the the last important breakthrough we have to survive as a long-term high school couple. It's a little hard to look for the bright light at the end of our tunnel when the train tracks seem to be going backwards."

"Okay...that was a terrible analogy." Miles laughed slightly, and although he couldn't see it he knew Tristan rolled his eyes dramatically by the groan that escaped.

"Tristan. None of those things I said earlier are stupid little details, first of all. They're important to know. I want to know everything about you. You're like reading my favorite book over and over - it never gets boring."

"Since when do you read?" Tristan countered, refusing to let Miles weasel his way out of his mistake this time.

"I guess that's fair enough." Miles chuckled as he allowed himself to be Tristan's punching bag a little longer. "Babe, you can't live life thinking about everything so pessimistically. A few weeks from now we'll be moving in together! Just the two of us! With nobody else around! For the first time ever we'll be able to do whatever we want! We'll be coming home to each other every single night. Doing things like cooking each other breakfast and watching shitty reality TV and sleeping together on a daily basis. You know, I've even been toying with the idea of getting a puppy if you're up for it."

Seeing Tristan upset in any degree had grown to become Miles' biggest weakness over the years. Just the sound of the despair in his voice made Miles' own troubled heart slow down its steady beating. It was almost like being so in love had connected them to a point where Tristan's pain became his own. Knowing he was the one that caused it made it so much worse, even if he knew he had the solution at hand. He reached out to lay a hand on Tristan's shoulder but he flinched it away, leaving Miles to huff hopelessly before getting to the biggest statement in his argument.

"With all those big things ahead of us I wouldn't think we'd need a petty high school dance to show us how solid our relationship is. We're ready for pro leagues here, Tris. We make the perfect team."

"I'd rather us get a kitten. They're cuter. And less destructive." Tristan stated matter-of-factly before folding his arms tightly across his chest. "And isn't communication a vital part of teamwork?"

"Of course it is. But sometimes-"

"No, Miles. I don't want to hear it! You can't just waltz in every time you screw up and think that you can say some sweet nonsense you've pulled out of thin air to make it all better."

"Tristan..."

"I'm not playing anymore Miles. I'm honestly really hurt that you didn't even have the decency to talk to me about any of this."

"Tristan..."

"Obviously I don't want to break up over this but honestly Miles it's going to take a lot more than an apology for you to make this one better."

"Tristan!" Miles was laughing now, in a way so unnecessary it pressed Tristan to turn around and shoot him a death glare that was more terrifying than castration. "Are you done yet? 'Cause I think these may help."

He watched as Miles slipped a hand into his back pocket with a grin so smug it nearly reached from ear to ear. He pulled out a simple manilla envelope, already torn open at the top and extremely crumpled. It wasn't very aesthetically appealing, but by the way Miles suddenly got giddy you would have thought he was pulling a million dollar bill out. He held it out to Tristan with a mischievous gleam sparkling like the night stars within his green eyes. With a suspicious eyebrow cocked Tristan hesitantly reached for the package, taking it in his own hands and peering inside.


	2. The Conjunction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know I advertised this as a two-shot. But after trying with no effort to shorten the last chapter down, I've decided to make it a three chapter fic instead. It made me uneasy trying to post such a long chapter as one. Too much text and too many new details coming into my bored mind while I'm on bed rest.
> 
> Also, to give credit where credit is due. The song lyrics I reference towards the end of the chapter are from Stay With Me Tonight by Houston Calls. And no, there probably is not a French version and no, it's not actually by a female singer. I'm just not that creative :P

**Chapter Two: The Conjunction**

Tristan didn't return home alone that night, occupying the passenger seat of Miles' car with one hand laced in his and the second clutching the pair of prom tickets for dear life. The boy behind the wheel traced circles along Tristan's knuckles with his thumb, mentally celebrating the joyous semblance radiating between them. It proved difficult to focus on the road when his boyfriend's wide smile was out to play - so bright and pretty like the crescent moon against the dim lit sky.

It was quite the change from the Tristan he saw earlier moping about the desolate park. Miles had watched his entire demeanor change in no time at all when he removed the slips from the wrapper he had handed him. Tristan recognized the sleek black and gold design immediately. He had seen it on every schoolyard poster and peeking out of various backpacks for months. They were a bit rumpled from the treatment of being crammed in Miles' pocket during their intense basketball showdown but valid all the same.

"Ever heard of a surprise?" Miles snickered in cheeky amusement as the look of disbelief formed in Tristan's blown pupils.

"But...when did you...how did you..." Tristan was completely lost from the unexpected change of events, fumbling over his own thoughts as he tried to vocalize them.

"Check the date on the receipt." Miles prompted, more than willing to provide the proof needed to show Tristan this wasn't just a quick save on his part.

Tristan did as suggested, finding a folded piece of paper tucked neatly between the tickets that showed the details of the purchase. Typed out clear as day it read February 11th - the first day the required admittance to prom had gone on sale. Miles had purchased them months ago. Unsure of what to say but too loud-mouthed to not say anything he merely squealed, throwing himself around his waiting boyfriend like a human blanket. He pressed his cheek against Miles' chest and the other boy watched as hundreds of emotions seemed to cross his face - from initial shock to ecstasy which slowly rolled into a conscious guilt that sat like a rock in Tristan's gut.

"I'm sorry." His words were stifled by the way he turned his face into Miles' sternum. "I should have-"

"Shhh." Miles hushed him, planting a sweet kiss atop his ebony locks. "All you should do is go home and get some sleep. We have a long night and  _many_  more unrevealed plans ahead of us."

Tristan tried. He honestly, truly tried to give in to Miles' request and get an adequate amount of rest while he could. The action didn't seem too far off for the brunette, who was out like a light the moment he curled up between Tristan's protective arm and bare upper body. Tristan yawned something powerful and could feel the exhaustion tugging him in every direction, but still found himself distracted by too many things to comfortably fall asleep.

There was the bouquet of muted yellow, pink, and purple hollyhocks that Miles had apparently brought him when he showed up at his house that night that thankfully got taken in and placed in a beautiful glass vase on his bedside table by his considerate mother. Tristan had told Miles once that they were his favorite flower to receive after his theater performances because they symbolize ambition. Where as the typical roses symbolize love, and since flowers are bought before hand there's no way to know whether or not you'll love the show. Not to mention, they're way too mainstream for him.

Beside them was where he placed the prom tickets that seemed to shine on their own under a light that didn't exist. Staring at them brought a whole slew of concerns to his mind - most revolving around what the hell either of them were wearing. Miles' hint of a 'long night and many more unrevealed plans' ahead of them made his heart skip a beat every time he thought about it. He mentally replayed every romantic movie scene or novel passage he had ever observed in his head, making a list of practically any date idea that had ever been presented. It was impossible to narrow down. Being with Miles was like a never ending game of Russian Roulette - you never know what will happen, but you have to have faith in the outcome to win.

Then of course there was the shirtless boy beside him taking the place of the cutest 'little spoon' he had ever seen. Miles was snoring lightly, his mouth slightly agape and his chest rising and falling with the most peaceful rhythm of breathing. The warmth from Tristan's thick duvet and their shared body temperatures brought a rosy flush to the faint tan of his skin. Every so often he shifted a little in his sleep, subconsciously searching for Tristan until he nuzzled his head against his cheek or brushed the sole of his feet against his toes. With a soft whimper of content Miles would grow still again knowing his lover was right where he left him.

But at some point his interrupted drifting ceased and he finally fell victim to the cries of his overwhelmed mind. But apparently not soon enough, for when he woke again he had to fight past them once more as they begged him to stay asleep. When his eyes cracked he squinted against the morning light, the orbs already sore and dry in their sockets. Miles had turned over to face him and was soothingly scratching his head as he coaxed him awake.

"Rise and shine, Tris." Miles purred a few times before Tristan slapped his splayed palm over the boy's mouth to silence him.

"Shh. I'll shine in an hour." Tristan whined in an attempt to get more slumber, tucking his blanket up under his chin and rolling over to the opposite side.

"Tristan, it's already ten am."

"Mmmh okay... Thirty minutes."

" Fine. I guess we can stay in bed if you don't want to take part in what else I have planned for us..."

Suddenly, Tristan was upright and wide awake. Miles snickered as he joined him, meeting in the middle as they simultaneously leaned in for an unusually energetic good morning smooch. As cheeky as ever Tristan suggested they hop in the shower, but that fantasy was shut down when Miles sheepishly admitted he had to run home to collect a few things. He was reluctant to let him go, but the way he instructed Tristan to get ready without him and promised a speedy return sent shivers of anticipation down his spine that proved it would be worth it. This left Tristan to shower on his own, taking even longer than normal to ensure he wouldn't have to worry about an unnoticed blemish in any and all prom pictures. After much debate he decided to get rid of the barely there stubble he had acquired in the days since he had last shaved. Something about a smooth face made him feel more sophisticated.

He slipped into a pair of silky black boxer briefs he had stolen from Miles a while back but refrained from getting dressed any further to avoid ruining his proper attire. Like clockwork, Miles arrived back just in time to sneak back upstairs into the washroom and mess up his hair right as it was finished. Tristan gritted his teeth in annoyance as he the boy executed his immature pride in tousling up his perfectly placed strands of black with his fingers but did nothing more than swat at Miles' knuckles with his comb to stop him. Just as Miles predicted, Tristan was still all smiles when he stopped. Which could have been helped by the fact that he was nearly licking his lips the moment Miles appeared in the open door frame. He had chosen to get ready back at his place, presenting another surprise for his impatient yet ever so grateful boyfriend.

Miles left his budding stubble along his jaw, instantly making Tristan wonder if he had made the wrong choice. Compared with the sharp suit Miles was wearing he looked so rugged, so grown up, so... like a  _man_. Right away Tristan recognized that his outfit was new. Miles only owned one other suit and Tristan had seen him in it a dozen times for random campaign events, Hollingsworth soirees, and when Miles escorted him to his brother's wedding. This one was so fresh it nearly glowed, the sleek back jacket and pants contrasting greatly against the bright white shade of the dress shirt below. A deep purple tie hung neatly from his neck, breaking up the lack of color elsewhere and immediately drawing Tristan in to the defined muscles straining at the buttoned collar. His black and silver aviator sunglasses sat atop his slicked back hair and although Tristan wouldn't be caught dead letting him walk into prom like that, in that moment it added to the allurement of the ensemble.

"Is that what the cool kids are wearing to prom these days?" Miles teased, nodding his chin in Tristan's direction as wide emerald eyes absorbed his lack of clothes. "If so, I'm terribly overdressed."

"Ha ha. Hilarious." Tristan's sarcasm was alive and well even though he was plainly checking out the other boy using the mirror in front of him. "Though, if it gets you dressing like that every day then I'm not complaining."

"I could say the same myself." Miles raised an eyebrow flirtatiously. "It's too bad there's another one just like this waiting on your bed. But we can always save it for another time you know..."

"You did not!" Tristan nearly pushed his way past Miles and down the hall into his bedroom.

Even without a body behind it it was beautiful, lying brand new and wrinkle free against his worn and clearly slept in sheets. An accidental check at the tag made him gasp, blinking a few times before turning to Miles in serious disbelief.

"OMLG. This is  _Versace_." He swooned, running his fingers carefully along the lapels of the jacket as if he was afraid someone might suddenly appear and snatch it from his unworthy paws.

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed. It's not like I  _bought it_...or have on the  _exact_  same one."

"Miles, this is insane..." Tristan giggled, the corners of his lips crinkling as they pushed up the apples of his cheeks.

"Not when it's gonna last you a lifetime." He countered. "And besides, you know you want to be the most fashionable couple there."

There was no arguing with that. He slipped into the pieces as if they were truly tailored for him, fitting against every nook and cranny of his body just right. He was internally fan-boying over how well coordinated he was with Miles, the only difference being that Tristan's ensemble included a bow tie instead of a neck tie. Miles once again had to help him anchor it on, as Tristan was too fidgety to work with the little buckles and snaps required to secure it. He fixed his hair and let Miles pick out his cologne - deciding on the lavender, amber, and sandalwood combination scent bottled up as Elizabeth Taylor's Passion that Miles had gotten him last Christmas. Miles made the conscious effort to embrace Tristan right after he sprayed it, humming in content as he breathed in the familiar yet always enticing scent.

The two braved their way through Tristan's mama obsessing over them the moment they got downstairs as if she had been waiting for them all morning. Tristan had been looking forward to pictures like always, but as soon as she pulled out her outdated Polaroid he hung his head with a low groan of impatience. Regardless he listened while his mother posed them this way and that, trying not to flinch from the chills produced every time Miles fingers brushed against his shoulder or tickled at his sides. Insisting on some in a format from this century, Tristan handed over his iPhone and had her snap a couple more. While hers had been very typical he opted for his being a bit more candid and relaxed, all except for the last one in which he dipped Miles back and kissed him so hard he nearly split the skin on their lips.

"How did you manage to get us out of doing this for your mum?" Tristan couldn't help but ask once his boyfriend seemed coherent enough to comprehend words again.

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind copies. But she's probably preoccupied with her precious little girl and third son right about now."

In all the excitement, Tristan had nearly forgotten Winston and Frankie were going to be there that night as well. Or any of the rest of their friends, for that matter. After both kissing Mrs. Milligan goodbye and Miles promising to have her youngest boy check in with her at some point in the night, they managed to shuffle outside without much restraint. Despite their attempt at a hasty exit Tristan couldn't help but take a step back in honest shock when he looked out at the street before him. The spot at the curb frequently accompanied by Miles' car had been taken over by a sleek, white limousine. Miles wasn't the least bit concerned, instantly placing his hand at the small of Tristan's back and guiding him forward away from the walkway. Tristan's legs felt stiff as he moved, slack-jawed and straight as a board.

"This...this is like...movie star quality." Tristan stammered, the way he looked down and away almost making him appear shy in the presence of such a stunning vehicle.

"You'll be there soon enough, won't you?" Once again Miles managed to say the right thing, turning Tristan's locked knees to something equivalent to Jell-o as he reached out to open the door with a self-assured wink. "After you, Mr. Milligan."

The inside of the car reminded Tristan much of his first impression of the Hollingsworth jet. It already looked ginormous on the outside, but once the door opened it revealed twice as much space as you'd expect it to hold. And once again he was reminded how lavish of a lifestyle his boyfriend lived compared to his. The interior was so spotless and impeccable that it seemed impossible anyone's butt had ever sat there before. There was enough space to fit at least ten other people, with two long, continuous booths against both sides. But they had it all to themselves minus the driver, who was invisible in front of the privacy screen that separated them. Despite the space the boys spent the entire ride closely together, Miles eventually deciding to take advantage of the fact that seat-belts were optional by laying down with his head in Tristan's lap. With not nearly enough spite in him to return the earlier nuisance of messing up his polished hairstyle, Tristan decided to occupy his restless hands by letting them wander up Miles' untucked dress shirt to adoringly trace the outline of his abs. The occasional croon on his end matched with the way his eyelids lightly fell shut showed he far from opposed.

"I cannot believe I'm riding in an actual limousine! This is like, The Princess Diaries. But IRL. And without the dorky glasses. Minus your shades."

Tristan used his free hand to reach up and knock the pair off of Miles head with a playful 'whoops'. They fell to the ground instantly with a clash.

"Hey! My shades are sexy!" Miles defended his choice of accessory, yet did nothing to try to fetch them as they slid further away. "And if it helps, don't think of it as a limo. Think of it more like...a time machine."

"A time machine?" Tristan's forehead crinkled between his knitted eyebrows as he repeated Miles' last statement with an unsure laugh.

"Well what better way to celebrate the end of our time in high school than by going back to the beginning?"

Butterflies soared recklessly in Tristan's stomach. There must have been millions at least, banging against his ribs as if trapped inside a cage. How he had gone from moping around a desolate park to sitting with his carefree boyfriend in the backseat of a limousine was beyond him. Miles curled up then to touch their lips together, quick and gently.

"Um. But...our first date was at The Dot. That's only like, a five minute drive?" It left Tristan's lips as more of a question as he noted they had already been driving for quite some time.

"Yeah...we're going a bit farther back than that."

Miles wasn't kidding - for the instant they finally rolled to a stop and he lead Tristan out the door he could have sworn they were back in Paris. Even from the outside the French restaurant was incredibly authentic. The inside continued on so well that the had to rely on Miles' tight squeeze at his hand to ensure him this wasn't a dream. The brunette was proving to be ever the gentleman that night - opening doors, pulling out Tristan's chair before he sat. They had been together so long that it wasn't uncommon for little things like that to slip through the cracks created by the comfort between them. Seeing Miles on his best behavior now made Tristan absolutely weak.

Everything reminded him of being right back in the city of lights. The way the decor and atmosphere blended together flawlessly, the menu full of words he vaguely recognized but couldn't even begin to translate, the accent in the voice accompanying the quiet melody that poured through the speakers. He noticed Miles' fingers tapping along to the beat on the edge of the table and a warm smile crept across his face. There was nearly nobody there at that time of day, making it easy to pretend it was just the two of them around.

"Do you actually know what the lyrics are saying?" Tristan questioned and Miles peered up from his menu to catch his stare.

"Mmhm." Miles' foot met his under the table, re-connecting the distance between them. "She's saying that there's a boy - quite possibly the most handsome devil she's ever seen. And this guy is just perfect. He's intelligent and talented and bewitching and has the prettiest blue eyes she's ever seen. And he does the cutest things, like chewing his lip when he's trying to be flirty and pretending like he actually remembers enough French to know what he's doing."

"Hey!" Tristan scoffed, giving Miles' ankle a light kick and releasing the bottom lip he just then realized he'd been chewing. "Those are your thoughts, doofus. What's she actually saying?"

"If you'd actually paid attention in French class, you'd know that. Wouldn't you?" Miles wasn't letting up on his teasing, offering a flirtatious brow raise that made Tristan adamant on returning the attitude.

"At least I didn't waste all my time in the most romantic city in the world catering to Zoe."

"Yeah. I can't argue with that one." Miles chuckled, the memory of that awful mistake reddening his complexion. "I should have taken you out that second night instead."

"Oh puh-lease!" Tristan's wrist cocked as he shook his head, his eyes shooting at the ceiling. "Don't you dare try again with that 'I've liked you since France' crap. I know what your kisses are like when you're into it, Miles. That was not one you enjoyed."

"I barely knew you!" Miles retaliated, his earlier chuckle now growing to a more sincere laugh. "Are you telling me that if some guy you'd just met kissed you out of the blue you'd return it without hesitation?"

They not-so-seriously bickered about what really happened that day for so long they didn't even notice when the waiter had come to take their menu. An embarrassed Tristan began to tell him they needed more time before Miles cut him off. Tristan was easily silenced by the sound of Miles' albeit fake, yet incredibly realistic hint of an accent as he ordered for them in perfect French.

"Une ou deux?" Miles asked, and it took Tristan a long moment to realize that their waiter had disappeared and the question was addressed at him.

"Oh. Um...one or two what?" Tristan questioned, thankful that there was at least that much of the language that he remembered.

"Just pick an option. Une ou deux?" Miles repeated again, a secretive smile tugging tight at his lips.

"Well, what's option one?"

"When our food comes, we eat it here and continue to reminisce about our grade ten Paris romance that should have happened."

"And option two?"

"Not option one."

Knowing Miles wasn't going to give in any time soon and secretly loving the sense of adventure in his expression, Tristan chose the later. He supposed this was why after some more unrecognizable words with the next passing waiter their food arrived boxed up and Miles was quickly ushering him out the door with the packages in hand.

"Won't this stuff get cold?" Tristan asked after Miles joined him in the backseat ten minutes later but the brunette shook his head.

"We don't have far to go this time. But here, do me a favor...and put this on."

He produced a silk scarf from his pocket, folded up and tied to take on the appearance of a blindfold.

"Umm. Sweetie. Didn't we already establish a long time ago that Fifty Shades isn't our thing?" Tristan drew back a bit, hesitant and cautious.

"Wow. Someone's got their mind in the gutter." Miles mumbled as he dismissed Tristan's assumption and leaned over to place it over his eyes anyways.

As if Tristan wasn't already nervous, now the acceleration of the emotion was absurd. After Miles knotted it off he quickly scooped up the other boy's fidgeting, clammy palm in his. His brought the hand to his mouth and met the back of his hand with a trail of gentle pecks that moved down to his wrist before turning it over to continue them up his palm. Tristan's skin was so incredibly soft against the roughness of his lips. When he reached the tip of his fingers he brought the tip of his index between his lips, sucking in slowly. Tristan pulled away out of reflex but in that moment the hundreds of nerve endings on that finger were alive and calling out for more.

"You fucking tease." Tristan tried to play his shock off but Miles was on to him, laughing in amusement at his reaction.

"Good thing we're here then." He noted just as the limo came to a stop once more and he was reuniting their hands to bring Tristan to his feet.

Miles had the food in one hand and was using the other to guide a very anxious Tristan, calling out instructions in his most soothing voice. Tristan still couldn't see a thing but Miles was hasty to remind him every few seconds that he was still there. He noticed the change between the asphalt and concrete, and somehow managed to stumble his way up a flight of stairs before they were stopped.

"Do you still want to know what that song in the restaurant was saying?" Miles whispered in his ear, making the dark hairs on the back of his neck stand up from the combination of surprise and the cool air from his breath.

"S-sure." Tristan stammered.

Really, he couldn't care less. He had only asked out of a momentary amusement and knowing his boyfriend's interest in both the French language and music. But hearing Miles sing was a rare yet wonderful opportunity he wouldn't dare pass up.

"Okay...let's see. I think it was something like..." Miles took a single shallow breath, making Tristan hold his own before the song left his boyfriend's lips in a tone low and slightly shaken, yet unmistakably beautiful.

"You're safe here. I know you can't believe, dear that I would say this. But once-upon-a-time's can happen and all you have to do is grab them. Stay near. I hate to make you wait, dear. I'd never want to. But what's a boy to do when happy-ever-after's might come true?"

Miles got quieter with each verse, making Tristan's heart race a mile a minute. And then there were hands on the back of his shoulders, fingers crawling like a spider up the back of his neck and toying with the tie that had been restricting his vision. The cloth silently fell to the ground and Tristan opened his eyes to reveal...a door? It was closed, and wasn't one he recognized just by a first glance. It wasn't until Miles walked back around him and unlocked the door that he could begin to pick up the few scattered pieces. A flick of the single light switch by the door turned on a string of Christmas lights hung unevenly around the perimeter of the bare walls, sagging in different places and with some strands that blinked on their own accord. There space was empty except for a large rug, a tall metal lamp that had proven itself useless, a worn recliner, and a used television set that was balanced on a stack of sturdy boxes. Tristan recognized it all immediately. He had seen all these things before. First at garage sales then in the back of his car as he took them to Miles to put in storage.

"Welcome home, honey." Miles murmured as Tristan stepped further through the threshold with wide eyes scanning their surroundings.

"This...is...is this...?"

"Our apartment." Miles answered. "I could have paid to take all this stuff to storage for the next month until we move in and then pay again to take it all out and have it moved. Or I could have paid the first month's rent a little early to get access to the building and bring it all here now. And then bring you here, of course. To share our first meal together in our new - yet, slightly underwhelming home."

"No. This is  _outstanding._ "

Tristan's jaw nearly reached the wooden floor as he spun around. No, there wasn't much there but it was  _theirs_. All of it. The temporary lighting, the lack of furniture, the open space waiting to be filled, the room at the other end of the narrow hallway and every other room in between. This was their place. Their home. He had only seen it in pictures thus far, but he knew from the first one that he would love it.

"Good." Miles sighed in relief, beaming at his boyfriend's satisfaction. "Um. I have blankets and my laptop. Maybe we can put on a movie or some music and lay on the floor and eat? I couldn't get the cable set up in time and the lamp you bought doesn't wanna work. But if that's too boring then we can-"

Then they were kissing. Tristan's hands were on his face and his lips moving effortlessly against his, determined yet pliant. Miles kissed him back with everything he had, swallowing hard as he touched his hands to Tristan's covered biceps.

"Let's eat." Tristan suggested when they pulled apart, his voice as light and quiet as a subtle breeze.

And eat they did. Whatever the hell Miles ordered for Tristan, he loved it. He wasn't sure if it had anything to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten all day but he was so engrossed in every flavor that he hadn't even bothered to ask the calorie count. With every bite he felt the need to make sure he wasn't noticeably salivating, his taste-buds stimulated to a level they had never been before. They sat side by side on the floor amongst the rug and a sea of blankets, with one large one in particular stretched across their laps to keep their slacks clean. They had long ditched their suit jackets, which were laid out nicely on the kitchen counter after Tristan insisted on wiping it down at least 3 times to ensure their safety. Friends was playing on Miles' laptop by their folded feet courtesy of a neighbor's open WiFi connection, but it was safe to say neither boy had even glanced at the screen since they turned it on. They were much more entertained watching each other and occasionally feeding each other samples from their separate dishes.

"Better than that eclair you never ate in Paris?" Miles asked at one point during their meal earning a whimsical jab from Tristan's elbow.

"Ow! Hey! I hunt you down before the sun is up to surprise you with a nice dinner in our new home before prom and that's how you repay me?!" Miles joked, wincing as he rubbed the spot as if Tristan had actually hurt him. "That's downright abusive!"

"Oh you poor baby." Tristan pouted with his best pathetic puppy-dog eyes, clearly mocking him as he leaned in and attacked Miles' cheek with a plethora of noisy kisses that nearly knocked him on his back.

"Whoa. Careful." Miles was giggling as he brought one hand down to the floor to steady himself and the other to Tristan's chest in a weak 'attempt' to keep him away.

"Well I was gonna let you choose what we do next, but I'm not sure if you deserve it after that." Miles spat in a fake disgust once they returned to sitting up like normal, slightly civilized human beings.

"You mean there's more? God, will this day ever end?" Tristan mocked just as terribly, throwing his hand to his forehead as he threw it back dramatically

But then the cerulean orbs in his eyes turned a softer shade as he looked back up at Miles in admiration. A new shade of pink nipped at his cheeks like a winter storm and he brought his folded hands securely to his lap.

"I really can't believe you planned all of this." He admitted, the awe completely obvious in his hushed tone. "How much of it was planned anyways?"

"All of it." Miles didn't think twice about his answer, staring at Tristan with a completely expressionless face.

"All of it? I mean the clothes, the dinner, the limo, sure. But even the little things? Like..."

"Yes, all of it. Except for how fucking sexy you look in that suit. I don't think anything could have prepared me for that."

"Mmm, likewise." Tristan barely managed to speak in the time Miles leaned in before his mouth was on his.

Although they both knew it was coming there was still a shared gasp as they intertwined. The two bodies instantly went rigid like ice and then simultaneously, they melted. The warmth was low and gradual, like sitting in front of a freshly lit fireplace in winter the way it started in one spot and ever so slowly spread to every last fragment of their bodies from the tip of their ears to the bottom of their toes. A deep inhale in response made Tristan's eyes crack open slightly, catching a glimpse of the shabby recliner to their left.

"Miles?" Tristan said his name out loud, which was only met with a whiny 'hmm' in response before he spoke again. "I know what we can do to pass the rest of the time..."


	3. The Question

**Chapter Three: The Question**

By the time they climbed back in the limousine prom was nearly starting. Not that Tristan had any problem with being fashionably late. Knowing that was an almost predictable possibility anyways, they decided a swift trip to the nearest drugstore for the necessary products to fix their hair and mask the clinging smell of seduction in the air was to be added to the itinerary. It was safe to say Miles hadn't planned on them having to touch up in a janky CVS bathroom, but considering what it followed of neither of them minded the detour in the slightest. Tristan's sudden 'no hickeys on prom night' rule had left them with no visible traces after they cleaned up, but for the two of them the steamy memory still remained obvious. Both of their pupils were blown black, the usual rings of color now reduced to nothing more than a thin outline. Their lips were slightly swollen with a stronger tint of red than normal. Miles could still draw up the taste of Tristan's sweet cum on his tongue and Tristan's wrist was still dully aching. They were thankful they thought to remove all and any clothes before the lewd acts took place. Luckily their secret appeared perfectly safe with them, receiving a much appreciated confirmation from the cashier that complimented how put together they looked on the way out.

A mere fifteen minutes later and their vehicle pulled up along a mess of other limousines outside the high class hotel where prom was taking place. Tristan's breath hitched audibly as his nerves kicked in. This was it. The night he had been hopelessly dreaming about for so long. Now that it was here it still seemed like a fever dream seen behind his childish eyes. Just hours ago he was convinced this moment would never be a reality. It took his suave boyfriend linking his arm through his to pull him out of his spell long enough to move.

The room was huge - and it only seemed to expand the more people that ran past them and into the doorway where they stood while Tristan soaked up the decorative brilliance. The black and gold color scheme was continued flawlessly - in the bright festive lights attached to what could have been boring pillars, in the colorful bursts coming from the single metallic ball that hung from the ceiling above the dance floor, in the series of balloon bundles around the room that had to take up more helium than what one would imagine was even available on Earth. The event was packed full of people, all energetic and making the most out of the night in their own unique ways. Some were placed at the array of tables that you hit when you first entered - catching up with friends, fueling their stomachs for more dancing, or sucking face with their lovers. The rest were behind them on the most lively dance floor either of them had ever seen. It was like a scene straight out of a movie. There were so many people in one area it was nearly impossible to single anyone out. It was just a massive sea of arms and legs moving around to the music however they saw fit. Currently, Fefe Dobson's "Legacy" was bumping loudly from the DJ's mix, accompanied by various hoops and hollers from random spots in the crowd.

"What do you think Tris?" Miles whispered with a hopeful smile, leaning over to bring his lips softly against the boy's ear.

"Ohmygod. Throwback! We have to dance to this! Come on!"

Tristan squealed, and with a crushing clasp around his wrist Miles found himself being tugged straight for the dance floor. His eager boyfriend moved so hastily it was almost difficult for his feet to keep up. The only other time they had ever danced together was the night they somehow managed to sneak their way past security and into the hottest nightclub in downtown Toronto. Although the people were younger and the atmosphere was significantly less gaudy this second chance didn't present itself much differently. Miles folded his captive arm against Tristan's torso, bringing the other one in to wrap him in a lax embrace from behind. Their legs moved until they found a mutual rhythm that sat comfortably with their restless torsos. They swayed together freely to the familiar beat, Tristan releasing a low groan with the initial contact of his firm behind grazing Miles' lap.

"We saw this artist together the first night we met, remember?

Miles spoke directly in his ear, humming contently as if the memory was one held oh-so-fondly. Tristan scoffed in amusement, letting his head roll back in time with his dubious eyes.

"Duh! Who could forget your dumb ass almost getting us thrown in the slammer for sneaking backstage. Trying to impress  _Maya_ , no less!"

Albeit a jab at Miles' past mistakes, the inflection in his voice was nothing but playful. Complete with the ruthless sweep of his ass against Miles' crotch he had practically created a game. There wasn't much distance between their bodies to begin with, but with every minute it seemed to grow less and less until it was barely existent at all.

"Hey!" Miles giggled, both in response to the words and the increasingly suggestive movements. "I've redeemed myself since then, haven't I?"

Never the one to back down from a challenge, Miles released their embrace to let his hands wander to the other boy's waist. He closed any space between them with a slow buck of his hips, letting Tristan how feel as his cock began to firm beneath its confines. By the way Tristan tensed up Miles knew he noticed the predicament already brewing down south. The touch of Miles against his sensitive backside - so hard already and even through his clothes - made Tristan's own desire stir the same between his legs. Something about knowing that same stiff cock was heavy in his hands not too long before made his stomach dip with need.

"Hmm. I guess...

Tristan's heart rate began to accelerate, his mouth hanging open as Miles was now up to nothing but teasing him, and damn was it working. With a particularly harsh forward motion Tristan's sentence was cut off as he released a seductive gasp that went unheard to all but the brunette against the high volume of the music. He returned the favor as he finished his thoughts, smirking deviously when he heard Miles hiss in response.

"...B-but my first impression of you definitely hasn't changed."

"Oh yeah? And what was that?"

Curiosity let Miles' head fall forward, burying his face into the concaved space between the other boy's neck and shoulder as he nearly growled in his ear. His green eyes threatened to close as he found himself fully enjoying the feeling of his better half pressed so closely against him.

"That you're trouble. One hundred percent."

The unmistakable lust dripping off his tongue was enough to make Miles worried about things getting messy right then and there. Miles gulped hard, putting all the strength of his pent up arousal into whipping Tristan around to face him. Without any opposition their lips enveloped in a kiss that deepened the already pink blush staining their cheeks. Teeth collided in a way that was nearly painful, but with both boys so caught up in the moment the roughness and lack of structure was downright hot. Both of Tristan's hands were holding Miles' face. One remained still while the other trailed fingertips lovingly down his stubble coated jawbone.

Miles arms lifted from Tristan's waist to circle his neck, his dull nails scratching the base of raven colored hair too short to fully grip. One would think that after so long together they would have every detail of the other's mouth memorized. But Miles would bet every penny to the Hollingsworth name that like the delicate snowflakes in winter, no two of their kisses were ever the same. It was different even compared to the ones in Tristan's house that morning, or the one in the limo, or their first kiss in their first apartment together, or even the ones shared while touching each other's most personal areas on their living-room recliner. This one was full of a passion that burned underneath their flesh like gasoline to an open flame. A passion that continued throughout their entire bodies, controlling the sinful gyrations of their hips working with the utter purpose of driving the other boy wild.

Any apprehension they may have had over who might be watching or getting caught by a teacher was absorbed by the dry heat in the air. The temperatures grew so strong Tristan was tempted to peel off his suit jacket to accommodate. It could be tossed to the floor for all he cared - it no longer mattered. Nothing mattered. They didn't give a shit about who saw the couple in the middle of the party who seemed intent on swallowing each other. Let them watch. All they cared about was the energy between them. The way their mutual stiffness tormented one another with every harsh graze and the collective soundtrack of pleasure that came in response.

Truthfully, not all of it was even sexual. There was just something about the way they held each other. The way their bodies touched and reacted similarly to one another that reminded them that that boy in his arms was his and only his. They ground into each other with skill, rotating wickedly in every direction they could to keep the contact going. Guttural moans turned into desperate whimpers that eventually became voiceless, open-mouthed gapes that appeared no differently to anyone else oblivious to the previous sounds, but made all the difference to the ones making them. With buckling knees and a terrible resistance the pair finally retracted only when they had to. The lack of oxygen had both lightheaded in the most enjoyable way possible, being the only thing distracting from the agonizing throbbing in their trousers. Beads of sweat had formed along their hairlines, visibly dampening the locks around the edges of their animated faces.

Arm in arm once more they made their way over to the table where the most bizarre of friend groups had somehow managed to merge and were chattering among themselves behind half finished plates of the provided refreshments. Never in a million years would Tristan have expected his boyfriend to willingly be in the same vicinity as Zig Novak or his other rubber room comrades, but after the day he had he supposed nothing was impossible anymore.

"Look who finally decided to stop dry humping long enough to join us." Winston teased, earning careless eye rolls from the same sex couple as they filled the last two vacant seats alongside him, Frankie, Maya, Zig, Grace, Tiny, Zoe, and her 'possibly bi-sexy' West Drive cutie.

"Yeah, do we really have to watch you two lovebirds suck face?" Maya added with a smirk as whimsical as a small child as she took a bite of the ridiculously over frosted cookie in her hand.

But despite the jokes the two included themselves with no trouble at all. They soon found themselves providing their voices to the various discussion topics and picking at the display of goodies their friends had yet to consume. A constant laughter seemed to fill the air the entire night. Everyone was having too much fun being around each other while they still could to get lost in the worries of graduation or maintaining relationships during university.

When the first slow song of the night began Tristan immediately went to take his boyfriend's hand but pulled back when he noticed the diffident impression wavering his smile. Miles was fixated on Frankie, who was staring right back at him with a shit-eating grin if Tristan had ever seen one. His brow furrowed in response, knowing that once again something had happened that he was unaware of.

Okay...what am I out of the loop about now?"

"Sorry, Tris. You can take the rest, but I was promised a sufficiently adorable brother-sister slow dance for not spoiling his top secret prom night  _extravaganza_." Frankie explained with an obviously exaggerated dramatic edge, peering at her brother as if fronting a challenge.

"You knew about that?" Tristan actually gasped in shock, glancing between the girl and her brother with his mouth barely agape.

"We all did, dummy. But the rest of us were bribed with the promise of an epic Hollingsworth manor after-party." Zoe admitted with a giggle that spread throughout the entire clan.

Another scoff was released as his hands hit the table to emphasize his sudden, yet obviously fake distaste for every single person at that table. With a wave of his hand he dismissed his boyfriend for his dance with Frankie, nearly having to look away to keep up with the supposedly disgusted charade. Of course he didn't actually mind. It was difficult to wrap his head around the fact that Miles had gone to such extreme lengths to keep him in the dark. Were the surprises ever going to end? A devious sparkle traveled through his dark pupils as he latched onto the hand of the Asian boy two seats to his left.

"Come on, Chewy. Let's play in to this partner swap."

"Uh no offense dude, but I'm not interested."

"Fine." With that, Tristan extended his arm across the table and offered a shy smile to Grace. "For old times sake?"

They never exactly became close, but the memory of dancing together at the Sweetheart Semi-Formal in grade ten was still remembered fondly enough for her to rise to her feet. His hands met her waist just as hers met his shoulders and they began to move back and forth together in what had to have been the most platonic slow dance in Degrassi history.

In the distance he spotted Miles and his sister sharing a moment that was - just as Frankie had predicted - sufficiently adorable. The oldest sibling held the younger close as she rested her head against his shoulder while they moved. He could never grow tired of watching Miles act affectionate towards the twins. Although it was rare, a genuine loving moment between any combination of the three kids was sweeter than any desert imaginable. Not to mention Miles donned the 'seemingly uninterested yet incredibly protective' big brother trope so well. This prom wasn't even finished yet and Tristan was already trying to think up a scheme to return with Miles next year when both of the younger Hollingsworths would be able to attend. He didn't realize how clearly his adoration showed on his face until Grace's voice snapped him out of it.

"You finally have a moment alone with me and you're not even asking about my shoes? Or who designed this god awful dress?" Grace teased, and Tristan met her dark eyes with a genuine smile.

"That must mean they're someone good. Spill!" Tristan pleaded as he bit his lip, another memory of when he discovered Grace's family came from just as much money as Miles' still fresh gossip in his mind.

So the next few seconds were spent with her revealing her designers and Tristan gushing over how he wasn't even worthy of being in the same room as someone with such a glamorous style, even if it was only on occasion. He could tell Grace was over it quickly, and rather than let the tension between them get any more awkward he dropped his hand in hers, spinning her around and dipping her backwards like the chivalrous suitors in old movies. She snorted under her breath at the gesture but the genuine laughter that came first just further proved it was all an act. They had no idea what they were doing and were sure they looked like complete morons. But they continued to pull and twirl each other around with the confidence of experts.

"You know. If you don't cut back on the heart eyes on Money Bags, I might vomit." She complained with distaste as she leaned into his ear, and luckily for her the song was soon through and everyone was able to return back to normality.

Tristan arrived back at the table first, allowing him to take his lover by the wrist and coerce him onto his lap instead of his prior location. That seating arrangement changed many times throughout the night as did everyone else's as people left to gather more refreshments or grind their hearts out on the dance floor. Another particularly heated moment out there for this couple led to Tristan's earlier rules being silently vetoed in the form of a faint bruise underneath Miles' adams apple. With his head tipped back and lids shut tight Miles nearly collapsed as the skilled mouth sucked and licked over the delicate flesh. Tristan eagerly lapped up the salty taste of his boyfriend's skin reveling in the way Miles' grip on his ass tightened with each stroke. Two and a half years of that sensation still weren't enough to turn him away from it. Miles' dry, lax mouth was trying to find the words to suggest an escape for round two but that idea was halted by the announcement of prom court.

The same sex couple didn't win, but based on the way Tiny and Grace cracked up when Zig and Maya's names were called as king and queen the vote was rigged anyways. Zoe was obviously infuriated over the unfair ruling and Miles honestly expected the same from Tristan. He held his breath in preparation for a meltdown but the joy he expressed while accompanying the rest of the table in making kissy noises at the winning couple proved otherwise. Miles took Tristan's hand and met it with a reassuring squeeze which was instantly returned. Both boys knew they had all the time in the world to confirm the supremacy of their relationship.

Nearly the entire crowd took part in the final slow number after the two accepted their crowns and timidly embraced under the spotlight. It was the only moment thus far when not a single voice could be heard over the dull melody pouring out of the speakers. Miles leaned their foreheads together and the sudden onset of nerves made Tristan's stomach drop like a roller coaster as he gazed into the same sage colored eyes that drew him in so long ago. With Miles' arms at the black haired boy's waist and Tristan's at his shoulders they rocked together in a way so innocent and tender it seemed surreal. The kiss that followed was innocent and tranquil. Their lips stayed still as they locked without any disturbances from clacking teeth or adventurous tongues. It spilled all their secrets and conquered all their fears. It gave a sincere apology for every argument and avoidable insult both in the past and yet to come. Most importantly, it told a story an epic romance that they had both been searching for their whole lives. Tristan had been convinced it only existed in rom-coms and fairy tales, and Miles was simply convinced that nobody could ever truly love him at all. They had already come such a long way since those views were pertinent - and this was still only the beginning.

"I love you."

They knew they didn't need to say it, but they did anyway. It was the first time those words had been uttered all day. In perfect unison they shared their feelings and in the same way they chuckled over it as Miles laid his head against his partner's chest, no longer moving in time to the melody but to the sweet lullaby of Tristan's heartbeat. When Miles couldn't help himself but ask, Tristan had been swift to assure him that this prom was exactly what he could have hoped for - and then some.

The school sanctioned event had to end right on time, but judging by how many people crammed themselves into the Hollingsworth backyard it would appear that the Degrassi senior class still wasn't ready to head their separate ways. God only knew how some of them found an invitation. Everyone was too busy destroying the social hierarchy they'd spent the last four years building to find out. Despite the ample supply of alcohol that had managed to sneak its way into the large group of minors the atmosphere there was much more relaxed than prom. Girls and guys were showing up at the door in pajamas with their hair still done up and dress shoes crushing the red solo cups that accumulated on the concrete beneath them.

Miles found himself an ice cold Coors Light and popped the tab, wincing through a sip before handing one over to Tristan. They both knew it was shitty beer, but they enjoyed the right of passage anyways trying to pretend like they hadn't grown accustomed to the fancy wine served at all the Hollingsworth soirees. A bottle of pineapple New-Amsterdam was making its way around the circle of friends but the two boys turned it down. Neither of them had the desire to get plastered. They wanted to remember this night. Hesitantly, Miles passed it on to Hunter and watched with interest as he downed his first ever shot like a champ.

As the crowd grew larger the available room outside got smaller. It wasn't long until Miles had to pull Tristan into a close hug just to make sure they didn't get separated. Even with the upbeat thump of the Drake remix nearly breaking the sound barrier the appreciative hum that left Tristan's throat did not go unheard. All around them people mingled - some amongst themselves and others attempting to strike up conversation with them. The pair gabbed and laughed their way through all the meaningless small talk with ease fully aware that this could be the last time they would ever see some of these classmates again. It wasn't until Miles caught sight of Hunter chugging what had to have been his 4th shot by then and promptly running inside with his hand over his mouth that they reluctantly pulled apart. Frankie followed after Hunter, swaying from side to side as she tried to maneuver between the mass of bodies. The sight wasn't comforting enough to keep the oldest brother from quietly excusing himself to go check on his little siblings.

In his absence Tristan became blatantly aware of how the cluster-fuck of disorganized noise and potent body odor that accompanied the crowd was making his tired head pound. The night they had was worth it, but he figured it might be a good idea to step away for a moment while he could. This was what lead him up the outside set of stairs and onto the balcony that overlooked the entire scene.

The elevation only slightly muted the oddly comforting sound of classic pop hits and familiar laughter from the party below him. The cool air felt wonderful against his flushed skin, glistening with a slight sweat that had gathered along the edges of his jet black hair. He laced his fingers over the top of the guard rail and let them grow numb from the cold metal. Wide-eyed, he stared past the chaos and out to the skyline behind it wondering why a darkened sky always managed to make city lights look beautiful. The different flashes of color competed with the few stars sparkling in the sky, flashing in time to the beat bumping from the speakers.

"Does this mean it's time to kick everyone out?" Miles voice rang throughout the still air, startling Tristan enough to make his body jolt.

"Oh no, not yet." Tristan looked over his shoulder to catch the other boy padding across the distance between the highest step and where Tristan stood. "How's your brother?"

"He's fine. I gave him water and Frankie's putting him in bed. What's with the disappearing act?"

"I just needed a break for a moment. It was getting kinda rowdy and hot down there."

"That's funny. 'Cause I'm pretty sure the two hottest people at this shindig are right up here."

Miles approached Tristan from behind and wrapped his arms around his waist. Tristan leaned back against him, shaking his head as a slightly ashamed laugh escaped his lips.

"You're so dumb." He teased affectionately as he peered up to address Miles' boyfriend's stupidity face-to-face

"Yep. And you're stuck with me."

Miles dipped down to give his lover a kiss causing their bodies to wobble scarcely by the shift in weight. Tristan grabbed on to Miles' wrists for support as they steadied themselves, giggling like love-struck idiots the entire time. Eventually their laughter faded out and they were left staring at the night sky together. Tristan was just beginning to wonder if Miles saw the unusual beauty in the busy city lights like he had earlier when the brunette let out an awestruck sigh that answered the question for him. They were so in sync that Tristan was honestly mortified he had ever doubted their connection. Although there was still one thing that didn't quite add up - and honestly, it was killing him not knowing.

"If I have to be stuck with you, can you at least answer one more thing for me?"

"Hm. I think I can manage that. Shoot."

"This whole night was so incredibly perfect. And you planned it out so perfectly. It must have taken you forever to come up with... "

Tristan started with the facts, catching his bewildered breath audibly before continuing on with his question.

"...But I still don't get why keeping all this a surprise meant you couldn't just ask me to prom. You know I never could have expected anything like this."

"What? You mean even after all this time the douchebag treatment still doesn't win you over?" Miles teased, earning a swift slap on the wrist from the other boy.

The contact made Miles tighten his grip, pulling Tristan against him so any prior space between their bodies vanished. Miles lowered his head, nuzzling delicately at the space where Tristan's jaw separates from his neck. Tristan tilted his head to the opposite side to allow his boyfriend better access, trying his hardest not to flinch from the ticklish sensation.

"Partially because I like messing with you..."

Tristan could feel the smile against his own flesh, bringing up a genuine grin of his own. But then the warmth was drawn away as Miles removed his head from its lingering spot. The two arms holding Tristan turned to only the right and Miles warmth left its spot against Tristan's backside. Tristan could feel Miles shifting around behind him, but before he had the time to think of a witty comment the boy grew incredibly still. So still that Tristan's stomach churned with the sudden shift in the atmosphere. When Miles' left arm snaked around Tristan once more revealing a closed fist Tristan was instantly struck with the thought that it seemed utterly suspicious.

Miles moved slower than molasses as he nudged Tristan's palm upward and let his fingers unravel in the space. In that moment, the rest of the world seemed to stop around them. There was no more party, no more cranked up music, no more shit faced people creating chaos beneath them, no more serene night sky to stare out. Even the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears faded to nothing as Tristan drew in an anxious breath. Miles was trembling - first just his fingers and then the rest of him. By association the boy standing before him started to do the same.

For what may have been the first time in his life, loud-mouthed Tristan was indeed absolutely speechless. Because not even all the twists and turns the day had presented could ever have prepared Tristan for the sight of the extravagant diamond covered band Miles was gently slipping over his left ring finger.

"...But mostly because I have a much more important question to ask you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Plot twiiiiisssssstttt! :D Or nah, considering there was a reviewer who apparently actually saw this coming lol.
> 
> Preya, I really hope you enjoyed and that I did some justice bringing your Triles at prom/slow dancing headcannons to life! Thank you so much for your continued support of everything I personally do and for being such a joy to the Triles community! It's safe to say things would not be the same without your amazing contributions on here and Tumblr. Your writing is a true gift that keeps on giving and it's always something to look forward too when us shippers need it the most. But of course, most importantly thank you for the amazing friendship we've built in the past few months since I dove head first back into the Degrassi fandom.
> 
> ALL of you who are reading this go read something of hers right now. Go do it. I demand it.


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